I now remember why I never liked to cry and why I would hold the tears in with all my strength.  Since June, this year has been filled with tears.  Tears that almost burn your skin as they stream down because the pain is just that intense and that real.  This happened months ago and now it’s happening again.  I can’t stop crying.  I have no control over it.  In fact, I have no control over anything in my life right now.  I know everyone tells me that I do, but I am almost certain that when this happens something completely takes me over and leaves me on the ground curled up, shaking and crying.  My life has been complete and utter hell since June.  I look back at my life and it pains me to think of how hard it has been.  It seems like I will never be “healthy.”  I wish this was all just a big dream, like I could wake up and live someone else’s life…even if just for a day.  I love Kathi and I wish that other people could see how much she has done for me…the progress I had been making in certain areas.  Now, after these last six months, I really feel like she’s losing faith in me and I can’t help but feel like I’m going to lose her.  I understand because I have lost the faith and hope within myself, but I need her to hold it for me.  I wasn’t even close to being stable again, but I had some hope for the first time in months that I was headed in the right direction and that things were very slowly getting better.  Deep down I was afraid it would resurface again, but I tried to believe that I was going to be okay.  At times I even felt proud of my strength for not cutting through it all.  I thought perhaps it was a big test to see if I could survive and I did, but I barely made it out alive.  I felt myself going downhill again the last couple of weeks, but I was hopeful that it wouldn’t turn into another hell.  I knew most of it had to do with Kathi leaving, and I knew I would have a very rough time with it.  When I woke up Tuesday and the first thing I thought of was suicide…I mean not just thoughts, but intense thoughts and pictures that would not leave my mind, I knew this was the start of something awful.  I woke up Wednesday with such intense anxiety like I had a month or two ago and I just started crying.  I was freaking out and I texted a bunch of people telling them that it was back again.  The replies I got varied.  Deacon Bob said something like, “you can do this; you have succeeded so many times before.”  Lenny told me I could do this and told me if I was the “old Jen” I’d be all cut up already.  My brother yelled at me telling me I should be used to feeling like this so he didn’t know why it bothered me so much.  Carole called later and called me grumpy and basically told me that I was negative.  No one understands.  I know I’m not the most positive person, but I don’t know how to be positive when it comes to me feeling like this.  I see absolutely nothing positive about having to go through this again.  I just can’t go through this again, but there is no way to stop it.  Like I said, I know a lot of it has to do with Kathi going away, but it’s the other part that scares me more.  What if I don’t feel better when she gets back?  What if this is something I am going to have to go through over and over again?  What if I can’t get better and stay better?  Why am I being punished?  I honestly think that I have gone through enough in my life to deserve a bit of a reprieve.  One thing that frustrates me the most is the fact that Kathi doesn’t leave for two more weeks and yet my anxiety over it has never been this intense.  Part of me wants the time to stop so she doesn’t go away, and the other part of me wishes she could go away right now so this horrific anticipation could at least go away and the countdown of when she returns could start.   I could do all this if I wasn’t feeling suicidal.  Even if I had this awful anxiety, which is the worst thing I have ever had to experience, I think I could muster up the strength to deal with Kathi going away.  But, the horrible anxiety, coupled with the depression and such strong suicidal feelings/obsessions and urges are intolerable.  No one really gets it.  No one can feel even a percent of the pain I am feeling right now, which is okay because I don’t want anyone to have to feel this way, but for once, why can’t I feel safe and okay?  Do I want to die?  Honestly, I don’t even know anymore.  I used to just want the pain to go away, but now that doesn’t seem like a viable option anymore.  I am in hell right now, so what would be the difference in actually going to hell?  Here, I am in hell, but I am constantly thinking about life and death.   I don’t want to just suffer until I die…that is not living.  This right now is not living.  I understand if you have children, how it could be selfish, but I honestly think that everyone will eventually get over it.  Everyone, as it has become very clear, has their own lives and will continue to go on with them.  The death of one person (who bugs and burdens you anyway) cannot possibly affect you forever.  Do I want to hurt anyone? No, of course not, but this pain is just too much and the thoughts, obsessions, and urges are just too intense to think of anything else.  My mind takes on a life of itself and I think my OCD contributes to that and makes it 10x worse.  Unless you’ve been there, you can’t really understand.  I feel like nothing can help me with this and I’ve lost all my hope.  I’ve been willing to do anything that will help.  I’ve gone out of my comfort zone so many times in the last few months shouldn’t that count for something?  I feel like no one believes me that I am trying like hell to get better…that I am giving it my all.  I don’t want to feel like this!!  God helps those who help themselves, right?  Well, I’ve been helping myself and ….nothing.  Every night I pray for a miracle that God will, if nothing else, lift these strong thoughts of suicide from me.   I want to be able to reason with myself and have my faith keep me alive like it did so many times in the past when I thought about suicide.  It’s different now, though.  It’s more intense and I feel like I have very little control over my actions, especially when it is coupled with the strong anxiety.  I’m willing to do anything that will help.  I don’t understand the medical/mental health field.  You stick someone in the hospital to keep them safe, but you do nothing to help them get better.  It’s not permanent.  It’s all a big joke.  I fear that my life will consist of going in and out of hospitals with no success, and I cannot do that.  That’s not a life.  That is why death seems like such a great option.  It’s over.  There is no worrying about the rest of your pathetic existence.  I just can’t go through this again.  I can’t sleep, I can’t eat again….it’s all coming back again and I don’t want to throw up again every morning.  Why does anything matter?  Why does it matter if I shower, if I eat, sleep, or stay alive for my dog?  He’ll be dead in a few years anyway, so it won’t haunt him the rest of his life.  I don’t know…all my strength is used up.